


Fighting like Cats and Dogs

by SunAndMoon (LadyMorgaine)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:42:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26050591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMorgaine/pseuds/SunAndMoon
Summary: Boo Seungkwan, a teacher by vocation and pet owner by avocation, experiences a surprising windfall in the shape of an old family legacy. Needing a space to think about what it means, he stumbles into a very large, very pretty man outside a pet café and receives the joy of a sprained ankle. Escorted into the café by the man that had tripped him, he discovers a very strange pet café. On the surface it has cute dogs and the odd reptile that lounges up on the shelves, but repeat visits open his eyes to something rather less mundane: the reptiles are salamanders, the cute puppies are tiny bulgae, and the owner is a magician of some note.It was also no coincidence that the man that had tripped him turned out to be Kim Mingyu, Muscular Cupid.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Comments: 70
Kudos: 90





	1. The Windfall

Seoul lay covered under a blanket of rain, skyscraper shoulders bearing a shrug of fat, dreadfully dark clouds. It was the kind of weather that most people would be inside if they could at all arrange it. Boo Seungkwan, scurrying along the sidewalk to one of the glitzy law offices that peppered this part of the city. He had a large umbrella to protect him, a yellow one obnoxiously marked by dancing little cartoon characters that had somehow remained in his possession after leaving his position as a kindergarten teacher in Busan. Said large umbrella did nothing to prevent his legs from being soaked – his only nice suit had water marks to the knees by now, and he had long since despaired of forming any kind of good first impression on people.

Moving from Busan to Seoul hadn’t been on his cards. He had been happy down near the sea with his kids and his music and Bookkeu, but the post had been a temporary one, and his situation had seen him seek out Seoul for a better salary. The only thing he had kept out of storage was his mother’s old tea set and Bookkeu, who seemed not to care where he stayed as long as food and play time happened.

_It’s a good thing I didn’t bring him along today in any case, he’d’ve drowned in this rain. What a massive downpour!_

Just as he jumped aside to avoid a massive wall of water from a taxi going far too fast, he spotted his destination and thankfully scurried inside, loitering in the lobby until he didn’t drip so much. There really was nothing that would fix his water-logged state so he ignored it stoically as he got into the elevator and made for the fifteenth floor, trying to fix humidity-snarly hair in the mirrored side panel. A few seconds later, looking the best that he could squeeze out in the circumstances, he exited and made for the reception desk, bowing to the ahjumma behind it. “Good morning. My name is Boo Seungkwan. I have an appointment with Jeon Wonwoo-ssi?”

He weathered her up-and-down look – plus points for being early, minuses for looking like a wet rat – and tried to look like a sane, sober adult.

She stood and bowed as well. “Two minutes,” she murmured. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Boo Seungkwan-ssi?”

“Yes, please!”

It felt like a great deal longer than two minutes before she stood to open another door for him; Seungkwan had warmed up and had his coffee, and even chatted a little about her children’s pictures and education these days. To his surprise, the lawyer wasn’t an old man at all, but almost his age, dressed in a painfully pricy suit and with a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles making him unfairly attractive.

“Boo Seungkwan-ssi,” Jeon Wonwoo said after their greetings and another offer of coffee which, admittedly, Seungkwan accepted, “Thank you for coming so quickly. I am curious whether you know the reason that you are here today?”

Seungkwan frowned slightly. “No? At least, I don’t think I owe anyone money, and I’ve not recently tried to sue someone.”

Jeon Wonwoo’s mouth twitched a little with mirth. “Good to hear. In any case, my firm specialises in estate law and conveyancing, not criminal law or debt sequestration.” He reached to a stack of papers on his table, pulling out a thick folder. “I have the great pleasure of notifying you that you are the target of a bequest. That is to say, as the last male Boo we could track down, you’ve come into the inheritance to an estate.”

Seungkwan choked on what felt like a speck of saliva, and had to turn his head to cough frantically to get it clear. “Beg pardon?”

Jeon Wonwoo reached to the side, stoically grabbed a box of tissues and handed them over. “A month ago, the lease the government had on the land that Bukchon Hanok Village sits on reverted back to the Boo family. It is a sizeable portion of land and originally came into the possession of your family some seven hundred years ago. Naturally the government had tried to buy it outright a couple of times, but the land-right is absolute. I have here a petition from the government to allow them to continue with tourist activities on the open portion; the lease rights will see you comfortably well off as a yearly stipend, provided you live frugally.”

Seungkwan’s eyes narrowed. “But?” he asked, leaning forward. “There’s always a but in situations like this.”

“But you will have to live there permanently, and as legacy head of the homeowner’s association of the area, you will have to be in charge of balancing tourism and residential issues – not a small matter, I assure you.”

Seungkwan sighed explosively and sat back. “I… wow. I don’t have the luxury of affording to refuse something like this, but may I go and take a look at it at least? Is there someone there that I can talk to? If you have urgent forms to sign though…”

Jeon Wonwoo smiled at him. “You are free to look, of course, but the temporary head of the homeowner’s association is out on business.” He leant to forage in a drawer, pulling out a solid, hefty-looking key with tiny little patterns carved all over it. “This is the key to the _hanok_ still in your family name, it is at the top of the area. A lovely old example, but perhaps in need of some renovation and modernisation. I suggest two days from now; the weather will surely have cleared up by then. In the meantime, I will have my secretary take you through the forms you are to sign – please make sure you put your correct bank account details down, it’s terrible trying to change them afterwards.”

Dumbstruck, Seungkwan only nodded, shuffling from the place feeling as if a thunderbolt had struck him. He signed forms for the next hour in the small boardroom, chill down to his skin, and when he left he was the owner of a large, apparently ramshackle area, a portion of which the government _paid_ him to use. It beggared belief, really, and he promised himself a large cup of hot choco at his tiny apartment, and some cuddles with Bookkeu.

* * *

Two days later the weather had indeed cleared up a little, enough for Seungkwan to wrestle Bookkeu into a cute little jacket and into his mother’s oldest crochet bag, the only thing the puppy slept in comfortably if they were out and about. Many, _many_ trains and buses later he stood in one of the more expensive neighbourhoods he had seen in some time. It was a squash too, tourists were cheek-and-jowl with each other, and the cries of the guides distracted him so much he stumbled dizzily to one side to get a grip on things and calm Bookkeu.

_There’s no way I’m going in this press,_ he thought as he stood again, making his way off into a side street. It wasn’t as busy, filled with small shops and tiny businesses. He watched as an idol company’s managers surreptitiously herded a hoard of boys into a van, envying their looks for a moment before he wandered on. The heat beat down on his head, increasing the headache that had been lurking there for god knows how long.

Later, he would blame the sunlight for what happened. As he stumbled aimlessly down the street to try and find a bingsu place, a force of nature crashed into him as he rounded a corner. He hit the street in a whirlwind of elbows and knees and muscle, _god_ so much muscle!

It took him long moments of staring to come to again; there were hands patting him worriedly and a pretty face was leaning over him and Bookkeu was barking and it was a _mess_.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry!” the pretty stranger said, hauling him up to a seated position with a swift jerk.

Seungkwan, on the verge of complaining that if he had had a neck injury he’d be dead now, hissed with pain as the … situation around his ankle made itself known. Through some kind of malicious miracle, as he had fallen from the sudden stranger to the face, it had knocked against what looked like an old-style fire hydrant, and it _throbbed_. “Let go!” he whined, gritting his teeth against the pain. “No, don’t touch him…!”

He flailed to stop the stranger from picking up Bookkeu, who had luckily not landed with the same force, but halted at the sight of the puppy licking the large man’s hands enthusiastically. Bookkeu was an _excellent_ judge of character; Seungkwan had long since learnt that he could read people better than his owner could. It made him grump though, and he winced again. “You should look where you walk,” he grumbled. “Help me up, will you?”

The man stood and grinned down at him, momentarily heartstoppingly lovely, before he reached a man-paw down to pull Seungkwan up slowly. “I really am sorry. I’ll pay for your medical bill, I promise. Look, there’s a café here, do you want to sit down? What an adorable puppy! What’s his name?”

By now so confused he didn’t know right from left, Seungkwan stared at the shop front that he had somehow not seen before. ‘Eclipse Café’ didn’t look anything like the pet café it advertised on the board outside, but he could see puppies from the window and his ankle was killing him and… and… “Please,” he said, and accepted the help inside.

The café looked far better on the inside than the outside, charmingly roughly decorated. There seemed to be a handful of puppies, given the number that mobbed them as they entered, and the sofas were designed for puppy paws and something smelled heavenly of coffee. He made his way to the closest one and let Bookkeu out when His Majesty demanded, watching woozily as his puppy ran off with the others, immediately playful. Looking away, he accidentally looked a huge beaded lizard in the eyeball, jerked back and nearly yowled as his attacker cheerfully picked up his foot to put it on a chair.

“What the fuck?” he screeched.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s broken! I’ll go and use their phone to phone for some EMTs. Back soon!”

_I have gone through the normal universe and out the other side,_ Seungkwan thought grumpily, going back to staring at the shop. Surprisingly, though it wasn’t to his normal tastes, it was nice enough in that masculine way. Wood – some of it harmed by puppies chewing on corners – and bright copper and brick made it look surprisingly warm. Beyond the lizards, which seemed to be everywhere around the top shelves now that he looked, it looked rather like one of those posh studies rich people had, complete with an old-style turntable crooning out something slow and soft.

It made him relax in little increments.

“Here you go, sir.”

Seungkwan looked at the voice and nearly swallowed his tongue at the beauty of another man for the second – third? – time that day. _Honestly, what is in the water around here?_ The man looked quiet a bit taller than him, hair a dark brown, and his jawline probably came from a statue somewhere, sharply defined. Another point in his favour, he had a tall glass of what looked like Iced Americano in his hand, along with a slice of Castella cake.

“Um… thank you,” he muttered, trying to look past the stranger’s shoulder for the man that had dropped him on the pavement. He frowned, not seeing him anywhere. “Ah, did you see a really tall man, all elbows and knees?”

The beautiful stranger gave a long-suffering sigh. “Kim Mingyu?” he asked. “He left. Said something about calling in a favour with a doctor friend and bringing him over. Everything’s on his tab.” Light brown eyes narrowed a little. “Eat a lot. Please. Do you want some painkillers whilst you wait?”

“I have some in my bag…” Seungkwan havered. “I’m sorry. I’m Boo Seungkwan.”

“Yes,” the honey-eyed stranger said slowly and with a lot of resignation in his voice. “Yes, I rather thought you might be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Welcome to 'I can't find any other inspiration.' 
>   * Very slowly, all the other characters in the band will appear. 
>   * I don't envisage any other pairings, but who knows what might happen. 
> 



	2. Eclipse Cafe

No matter how handsome the guy was, Seungkwan didn’t like his tone of voice; frowning, he stared up at him. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “We’ve not met before, have we?”

The guy’s face did something interesting, giving the faintest of spasms. “You’re my…” He hesitated, tray dropping to hang from his hands. “You’re my landlord, sir,” he finally settled on. “This shop backs onto the village, and we were informed yesterday by your attorney that you’d come and look around.”

Seungkwan fought not to struggle under the straight, strong gaze the guy gave him, as if he was angling for thoughts in Seungkwan’s eyes. “Oh. I… oh. Well, please don’t worry about that. I don’t plan on changing anything, I just really need the opportunity myself. I didn’t plan to burst in on people until a great deal later. It’s just the… you know.” He motioned down to his leg. “The thing. Please call me Seungkwan.”

Moments passed before the guy gave him a small smile. “I’m Chwe Hansol,” he said. “Thank you, Seungkwan-ssi.” He flipped the tray again, putting it down on the table before he knelt to look at the leg.

Shivering at the gentle touch, Seungkwan’s stomach flip-flopped absurdly. His toes flexed as warm fingertips gently probed – it wasn’t painful, strangely, but he felt it all the way up to his fingers. Swallowing, he looked away, got eyed by the lizard that was suddenly a great deal closer, and down at his drink. “I… um, will Bookkeu be safe with your puppies? They looked very vigorous and he’s so small still.” He would have felt more, but something sharp pressed in on his shoulder, and a scaled body swung over to flop over his shoulders. 

Seungkwan eeped with fright, body stilling as the lizard settled down; it was really quite warm, feeling like a med-pack against his neck. His shoulders relaxed against his will, and it called his attention to his shoulder that twinged along as the tight muscles of his neck started to relax. “I… oh?” 

The lizard gave zero fucks about wrapping its tail around his neck, nor settling in like a particularly brilliant necklace. Its owner, smiling slightly, shrugged. “The puppies won’t hurt Bookkeu. That’s a nice name.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan whispered, too afraid to speak out loud – he didn’t want to get choked out and it felt really rather nice, if a little freaky. Very carefully, feeling particularly subdued, he reached to sip nervously at his iced americano.

A ruckus at the door drew his attention. Another guy stormed in, this one dressed in an all-black hanbok with subdued embroidery and white-silver hair. He was short as well, and he stomped as if he was trying to crush something under the ironically modern combat boots he wore with the hanbok. “I’m done!” he screeched as he plucked the _gat_ off his head. It went flying off into the depths of the shop as he stormed the cake counter practically bowlegged with rage. “Chwe! Where are you? I’m so fucking pissed off!”

Seungkwan, eyes wide, stared at the spectacle as the guy helping him straightened. “Wait, no,” he got out, grabbing a piece of Chwe Hansol’s sleeve. “What if he’s dangerous?”

Chwe Hansol looked unperturbed. “He’s more of a…” His voice trailed off as he looked first at Seungkwan, then the short guy raiding the cake counter, then Seungkwan again. “Is he taking some cake?” he asked in an odd tone of voice.

“Yes!” Seungkwan hissed, leaning sideways to see past his hip. “He’s just grabbing a fork and the choco and wading in! Hey! Hey, you with the fork! You can’t just do that; you have to pay for that!”

The guy at the counter blinked mid-gulp, staring at Seungkwan with wide, spellbound eyes. “You can see me?” he mumbled past a mouthful of cake. “He can see me?” he asked of Chwe Hansol.

“You’re right there eating cake illegally, how can I miss you?” Seungkwan said back. “You need to pay for that! Are you one of the entertainers in Bukchon? I can understand a cake-eating day but you can’t just storm in here and raid the cake counter like that!”

At his side, Chwe Hansol only gave a single shrug; moseying to the counter, he took the cake from the guy, neatened the savage slice up and heaped a portion high on a plate, pushing it into the hand still hanging in the air. “Lee Jihoon, meet Boo Seungkwan. Boo Seungkwan, this is Lee Jihoon. He’s the…”

Seungkwan watched as Chwe Hansol’s face did that thing again. “The what?” he asked, deeply suspicious, but a mumble from the lizard had him settling down again. “Sorry,” he whispered to it.

“He’s the undertaker,” Chwe Hansol said; this time it was the other guy’s face doing something, a spasm of disbelief. “Don’t worry, _Kkoch_ will climb off if she’s getting bothered. Or if she’s bothering you, just lift her off.”

“The undertaker?!” Lee Jihoon jeered. “I’m... I’m… oh.” He shut up as Chwe Hansol stared at him. “Yes. I’m the undertaker.” Grabbing the slice of cake, he moseyed to Seungkwan’s table. “Sorry. I had a hard time with a… with a corpse today. He didn’t want to, um.”

Seungkwan stared and stared. Lee Jihoon seemed like the least undertaker-y undertaker ever, except for the all-black. His left ear was practically all earrings! He opened his mouth, but something low in his neck clicked in the heat from the lizard and he grunted, unwilling in the  _ extreme _ to take her off.  _ This is the strangest café I’ve ever been in. Bookkeu’s not even complaining, and who names a lizard Kkoch anyway, and now this guy is complaining about dead body problems? What is up with this district? _

He cleared his throat. “Is the... is the chocolate cake helping? I’m sorry you’re having a hard day, Lee Jihoon-ssi.”  _ Polite. Let’s try for polite.  _

Lee Jihoon stared at him as if he was the most fascinating person ever. “Best chocolate cake in the town,” he claimed. “It’s magical.”

From the counter came a heavy cough.

“Sorry,” Lee Jihoon said insincerely. “I mean he has a gift. For making… cake.”

Another cough.

“I… have some cough sweets if you want, Chwe Hansol-ssi?” Seungkwan asked, getting a little worried.

“No, I’m quite alright, thank you,” the owner said; cleaning up the coffee machine, he was practically all broad shoulders. 

Lee Jihoon’s cake fork scraped his plate noisily, and as Seungkwan watched he sucked it clean with great relish. Unsure whether he was horrified or entranced, he chose to say nothing. Instead, as a great roiling cloud of puppies came his way, he looked anxiously for Bookkeu’s head, and goggled to see him lively and yappy and beelining for the undertaker’s legs.

“Oh!” Lee Jihoon bent down and offered his hand to be sniffed. “Who’s a pretty boy? Where did you come from, pretty boy? Are you new in the shop? Chwe, are you diversifying?”

Chwe Hansol seemed to be one long sigh as he returned to their table, legs moving slowly through the pile of fur. “No. Seungkwan-ssi, how’s the leg doing?” He sank down on his haunches again to examine the propped-up ankle. “You won’t be able to look at the district today on this, I’m afraid to pull the shoe off to check it correctly.” Honey-brown eyes lifted to eyeball Jihoon. “Kim Mingyu ran into him.”

Seungkwan pouted at the memory. The touch renewed his awareness of the pain of the ankle. “I should probably just get a taxi home or something, and go and wrap it. I don’t think that doctor is going to show up, and I’ve spent enough time here…”

Lee Jihoon pushed his plate aside and reached to pull up a barking, frantic Bookkeu on his lap. “No chocolate,” he said very seriously to the puppy. His lips thinned at Mingyu’s name; instead of sighing he shook his head. “It’s almost time for the Hotel Del Luna rerun to start. I’m pretty sure the doctor will show, that scatterbrain might be a walking disaster but he’s not actively malicious. Or, if you want, I can give you a lift home in my car.”

“It’s fine,” Chwe Hansol said in slow, meted tones. “I’ll take him back in mine.”

Something passed between the other two – Seungkwan was getting tired of all the mysterious glances – and he took a deep breath. “It’s really fine. If you would be so kind as to call me a taxi I would appreciate it. I’ll just ask it to take me to a clinic. I…” He stuttered to a halt as the lizard around his neck shifted and neatly started walking down his arm. Seconds later, the recipient of the smelliest fart he had ever had the privilege to smell, his eyes watered as Chwe Hansol picked the lizard up and off him, carefully carrying it back to a sandbox under a heat lamp.

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” he strangled, waving his hands frantically for some clean air. “Oh my  _ god _ how does that smell come from such a small thing?”

Lee Jihoon laughed so hard he nearly slipped off the chair, one arm thankfully anchoring Bookkeu on his lap.

Seungkwan felt so assailed that he didn’t even hear the bell sounding again, and almost jumped off his chair as a slim man came to put his hand on his ankle. So beautiful too, it was really starting to get unfair, and there were none of those tingles when  _ he _ touched Seungkwan’s ankle.

Chwe Hansol returned, scooted through the pile of puppies clustering around Seungkwan’s remaining foot, and patted the man on the back. “Thanks for coming, Josh,” he said in what sounded like excellent English before switching back to Korean. “I’m afraid his ankle is badly sprained. I didn’t take the shoe off, but Kim Mingyu got him good. You need to look at his shoulder too, he’s favouring that side of his body. Do you need some tea?”

Seungkwan gaped again – Lee Jihoon was  _ still _ laughing – as the stranger very neatly undid his shoe and slipped it off to reveal his pink Peach-tan socks, long thin fingers extremely mobile.  _ How did Chwe Hansol even notice? He had been looking away from me for most of my time here! _ “I’m Boo Seungkwan,” he said weakly. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Hong Jisoo,” the man said, shooting him a sideways glance. “Likewise. Hold still, this  _ will _ hurt.” 

Seungkwan bit his lip and nodded, unsure why he noticed the man had eyeliner on making his eyes even sharper. The next moment he wanted to curl up in a ball and die, or perhaps pee a little, or start crying. He did start shivering as Hong Jisoo took his leg, took his foot and carefully rotated it, fingertips pressing into the swollen flesh to feel at the bones of the ankle. The puppies whined as if they could feel the pain as well; he scrunched his eyes shut to try and breathe through it.

A sigh recalled his attention, that and a cessation of motion in his ankle. “Badly sprained,” Hong Jisoo judged, slipping his sock back on. “Remind me to have a little talk with our dearest Cu….”

“Our dearest friend,” Lee Jihoon interjected hastily, fingers scratching Bookkeu’s belly. “Glad it wasn’t me, that ankle doesn’t look healthy at all.”

Hong Jisoo’s head reared as he shot a look at Seungkwan, then the others, before he worked the shoe slowly onto Seungkwan’s foot again. “Indeed. It’s going to be like melon later on, Boo Seungkwan-ssi, I hope you don’t plan on going back to work.”

“Please,” Seungkwan croaked through the pain, too tired to pick up on the looks they gave each other this time. “Call me Seungkwan. I feel we’re  _ such _ good friends already.”

Jihoon snorted. “Sassy,” he judged.

“Seungkwan-ssi is our new landlord,” Hansol said quietly from the side, helping the doctor to pull the shoe back on. “Perhaps an X-ray?”

Hong Jisoo clicked his tongue and nodded, standing straight to help Seungkwan up. “Come on,” he said. “Hansol-ah is correct, you’re going to need an x-ray. I doubt anything is broken, but it’s best to be sure. There’s a clinic not far from here, it’s where I work – tourists get injured more than you’d think.”

“Screw Del Luna, I don’t like this episode anyway,” Jihoon muttered as he pushed his chair back.

Seungkwan boggled as they neatly managed him. Lee Jihoon took Bookkeu and popped him back in the abandoned crochet bag, Hong Jisoo took all his things and even put the cake into a little takeaway container and Chwe Hansol?

Chwe Hansol hunkered down in front of him, offering his broad back. “Hop on,” he said simply. “I’ll carry you.”

“What? No, I can…”

“Hop on.” Implacable, but also somewhat wry.

Seungkwan hopped, and suffered a stranger to carry him out to a car. Along the way, trying not to notice how nicely he smelled and how much muscle was beneath the long-sleeved black shirt, he cursed Kim Mingyu out up one side and down the other, and made the time pass with increasingly fantastic daydreams of suing his ass off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * I don't know if people were wondering, but I'm putting full names in as a sense of distancing people, because they don't know each other well enough yet to be familiar. 
>   * Lizards really can pass wind. So can snakes. It's really foul-smelling though, at least to me. 
>   * Lee Jihoon the Grim Reaper rears his head. His love for drama reruns is an homage to the Grim Reaper in Goblin. 
>   * Grim Reapers are normally invisible to people unless they want not to be.
> 



	3. District of Extreme Pain

It was a week before Seungkwan stepped foot anywhere close to the District of Extreme Pain again. That night he had had to accept help to hobble into his apartment and feed Bookkeu; the next day Chwe Hansol had been there to do it again and check the bandages – he had been so out of it he hadn’t argued. Another check-up a week later, and today, the first evening he felt equal to hobbling along a street, he headed to Eclipse Café again, bearing a host of small thank-you gifts.

Somehow Wonwoo had heard of the fall as well; his secretary had sent flowers and hot-packs, along with the newest gossip about her children. Somehow that had made him feel just a little better, that moment of normality.

Holding the crochet bag with Bookkeu in it carefully, he peeked around the corner in case there was a runaway walking pile of muscle again, and slipped in very quickly when the coast appeared clear. Everything was quiet inside, from the dotted fluff of puppies sleeping every here and there, to the soft singing of the heat-lamps and the crackle of the fireplace. No sign of the owner, though he heard something back in the café kitchen. 

_ I’m not sure how he doesn’t get robbed blind,  _ he thought.  _ Honestly, he needs a babysitter. Or a waitress. Or someone to watch out at least. _

Discouraged, he made his way to the counter as fast as he could, gingerly placing the little thank-you containers of home-made jam down on it with a note before he turned and hobbled back. Mere feet from the door and his escape he stumbled to a stop, staring down at the tiny furry thing that had planted its behind in his path. It wasn’t one of the puppies – those all seemed to be snoring – but a striped kitten instead, one that looked as if it was more fluff than body.

Seungkwan’s heart melted. “Oh,” he said very softly, and braced himself on a nearby chair to lean down enough to introduce his hand to it.

It sniffed at his hand, sneezed voluminously over it, and chose to hop onto his arm instead, climbing it until it sat perched on his shoulder as Seungkwan straightened. Its black-and-white fur tickled at his ear, but it felt soft and cared for, and it was purring up a storm. 

Casting around, Seungkwan finally slipped behind the counter and knocked gently on the door. “Excuse me, Chwe Hansol-ssi? Hello? I… oh. Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” His cheeks scalded with a blush and he turned away from the sight of the owner pulling on a fresh shirt. “Sorry!”

“Have you finally found your way back here?” Chwe Hansol asked, voice weary and sarcastic.

Seungkwan’s spine stiffened at the tone, and he practically felt lightning-bolts shooting from his eyes as he whirled down again, wincing as the kitten sank claws in for stability. “Excuse me! I just came to thank you, but if that’s the way of it I see I need not have worried! And I shouldn’t be worried about your stupid shop getting stolen blind either, I…” His words petered out as Chwe Hansol frowned and marched over, clearly reaching to throttle him. “Hey! Hey, that’s rude, you don’t just do… that…” 

Chwe Hansol removed the complaining kitten from his shoulder. “I was talking about the cat,” he said tightly. “I’ve rescued this one three times from a tree already this week. It doesn’t have the sense to sit down and stay put. I’m sorry my shop is not up to your standards, but your thanks is received as graciously as you gave it.”

Seungkwan blushed up into his hairline as he spun on his heel to leave. 

_ I should have more patience than this, I taught kids! Why am I suddenly jumping around like an angry flea? Is this some kind of weird twenties menopause?  _

He stomped out of the kitchen, wincing each time his sore ankle was jarred, but didn’t stop. Instead, grabbing the bag Bookkeu had been in he marched to the door. He was nearly out when it registered that the bag felt awfully light; when he looked inside his puppy had disappeared. Gone. Been stolen.

Wincing, he spun on his sore ankle in his shock and started casting around, ignoring the owner as he idled out of the kitchen. High, low, through a nest of what looked suspiciously like a monitor lizard giving birth, until he finally found a splash of white right at the back of the café near the fireplace, tangled in with red-roan fur and snoring like only a puppy in a pile could. Grimacing, he tried to hunker down to fetch him, but his ankle twinged at the last moment and he fell sideways.

A strong arm lashed out to catch him, sparing him an embarrassing tumble. 

“You know,” Chwe Hansol said above his head. “You’re extremely touchy. Just like the cat. It spits and claws too."

Seungkwan suppressed a desire to rear up and punch Chwe Hansol’s pretty face in. Not only did it look way too durable, but there was no way he’d be able to get along with a foot  _ and _ a hand out of action. “Thank you for catching me,” he said through his teeth. “I just wanted to retrieve my dog so that I can leave.”

Chwe Hansol’s pretty jaw relaxed into a gummy smile. “It seems it’s your fate not to leave tonight,” he muttered as he reached down with his other arm, picked Seungkwan up and put him in the closest cozy leather chair. “Here. Mind him for me, I’ll go and make you some coffee.” Without so much as a by-your-leave, he plopped the kitten down on Seungkwan’s lap and made his way off to the counter. “Have you eaten? I’m not a stellar cook, but I have some kimchijjigae and ramen if you want. I… oh, did you leave these here?”

Seungkwan wondered whether he’d ever be on an even keel in this café. “It was just to say thanks,” he muttered as the kitten settled down happily. “Don’t think too much of it. You really should get a waitress or waiter or something. And no thank you, I have eaten.” 

“I have a waiter,” Chwe Hansol called over his shoulder. “But he’s busy studying for exams later on, so I told him to go home and do it over there, rather than between coffee orders here.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . Rather than confront the strange sweetness Chwe Hansol displayed, Seungkwan flailed for another topic. “I’ve still not managed to look at the district,” he got out. “It’s like I have major bad luck whenever I come close. I wanted to try again tomorrow.”

“Should I have your coffee ready then?”

Seungkwan bit his lip and shook his head ruefully. “It’s your closed day anyway, it says so on the shop window. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the sounds of coffee being made, before Chwe Hansol sighed. “If I let my house get any dirtier my landlord is going to toss me out to disinfect it,” he said. “I don’t know him well, and he’s a little touchy, so I don’t want to risk the fumigation truck, you see? Besides, my sister flatly refuses to set foot in it until I’ve done laundry.”

Pouting, Seungkwan was on the verge of snipping back before a thought occurred. “Oh,” he mumbles, fingers sinking into the kitten’s fur. “You’re teasing me.”

Chwe Hansol took a few more moments to finish the coffee before bringing it over. “I am. You finally caught on.” He slumped down in the opposite chair, showing no hesitation about kicking his shoes off and shoving socked feet underneath the puppies. “I’m not kidding about the laundry though, it’s disgusting. I’m having a… hm. A severe time organising my place. Everywhere is a laundry heap right now.”

“That’s horrific,” Seungkwan breathed. “Your sister must be so disgusted.” He took the coffee and sipped. It was sheer bliss as always. Whatever Chwe Hansol lacked in household skills, he had clearly mastered the art of the barista. “Do you live inside the village itself, or in the area attached to it?”

“The area attached to it, though I’m close to the district.” Hansol paused, watching the fire, before tilting his head. “Do you want to see? I’m not kidding, it’s really dirty, but it’s… well. You’ll see it sometime, rather it be at its worst so your opinion of me can’t get worse.”

Seungkwan blinked. “I don’t have a bad opinion of you, Chwe Hansol-ssi,” he said primly. “Bookkeu likes your puppies. That means I should at least tolerate you, he’s got good taste.”

Chwe Hansol’s smile stretched wide again. “Why do you refer to me so formally then? You’ve given me leave to use your name, why not reciprocate?”

“You haven’t given _me_ leave,” Seungkwan explained simply. 

The owner took a deep, deep breath, eventually sighing it all out. “Boo Seungkwan-ssi,” he said formally. “Please call me Hansol.” He paused. “I’m twenty-five, if you really want to get formal about things.”

Seungkwan bowed over the kitten on his lap. “Thank you, Hansol-ssi,” he said just a little impishly. “And oh… I’m twenty-five too!”

“I know,” Hansol said gently. “I saw your birthday the other day when we filled out your medical information. Boo Seungkwan, born in Busan but almost natively Jeju now, twenty-five, primary school music teacher.” His eyebrows wiggled a little. “Blood type B, one hundred and seventy-four centimetres and fifty-eight kilos. You’re a Capricorn, I think? That explains a lot.”

“What?” Seungkwan squawked. “What? How do you know all of that? What do you mean it explains a lot? Chwe Hansol-ssi!”

Hansol’s smile spread even wider. “I have a very good memory,” he said, tapping one temple with one long finger. “And Capricorns are hard-working and responsible, but also filial and nurturing. You’re very anxious at times though, and sometimes you read what hasn’t been said in what’s been said, likely because of your need to protect yourself.” He held up his hands. “It’s a good sign! Really.”

Seungkwan stared and stared, unable to think of a single thing to say. “Hansol-ssi,” he finally got out. “You really are the most incomparable person.”

“My mother would have said lout.”

“Your mother would have been right.”

Hansol snorted, sitting forward to balance his elbows on his knees. “Will you visit? I have a dog-sitter coming in for this lot tomorrow, but my house is puppy-proof, and I’ll be able to point out some of the area as well.”

Seungkwan wrapped his hands around the cup and tried to think of how many puppies he had seen last time. “Don’t they get cooped up a lot? I imagine it’s a lot of time and effort to take them for a walk, and land is scarce in Seoul.”

“Most land, yes. There was a piece that I had had my eye on, but it fell through. I’m still looking for another place.”

Considering his coffee, Seungkwan fell silent for long moments. “Do you think that the person would mind one more puppy?” he finally asked. “Because if I’m going to visit and help out, I don’t want Bookkeu to get bored or be frightened of strange noises. I’d rather have him here safe and happy for a few hours whilst we tackle your place.” He lifted his gaze to smile at Hansol. “My mother is a firm believer of the Marie Kondo method.”

Hansol visibly boggled. “Yes? You… want to help me clean? Why?”

Seungkwan considered him.  _ Is he really as much of a manchild at home as he claims? _ “Last week you not only helped me when I was injured, but you brought me food and helped clean Bookkeu. Even if we seem to have communications issues, Hansol-ssi, I would be a very bad landlord if I didn’t help, right? I’m not going to run around like a mad hen, I’ll sit on the couch and you can bring stuff to me to be sorted. Deal?”

“I… of course! Deal.” Hansol’s smile made an appearance again. “I can even put on some music for you there, and get you some wine if you want? Beer? Coffee? Water? And food of course, all the food will be on me.”

“Water and coffee,” Seungkwan said primly. “My body is a temple, even if it’s a rather ramshackle one right now.”

Somehow, hearing Chwe Hansol lose it with laughter was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Thank you for the lovely reception on this! 
>   * I honestly just consulted a webpage and a friend for the astrology stuff, I'm not good with that. 
> 



	4. The Konmari Fold

For once nothing happened to Seungkwan as he approached the Bukchon district that Sunday morning -- no people running him down, no lizards farting in his face, no tiny terrible kittens using his shin as a nail sharpening pole. He had dropped off Bookkeu at the cafe, which was currently being watched by an  _ adorable _ young man that thought nothing of rolling around on the floor with them. He had welcomed Bookkeu with open arms, called him a good boy and steered Seungkwan neatly out of the cafe with additional directions.

The cultural village was fascinating and much emptier than he had thought, what with tourists only being allowed six days out of the week. It had given him time to wander through the narrow alleys, looking at the spots that needed repair, and to pick up a bucket of cleaning supplies for an old _ahjumma_ for a bargain -- though he had had to help her carry vegetables in. Thus employed, he had almost not made it to Chwe Hansol’s place on time, and was pink-cheeked from a hobbling rush when he finally knocked on the intricately painted door.

Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t Chwe Hansol with a sleeveless t-shirt and a pair of shorts, nor the unexpectedly scarecrow profusion of hair sticking out every which way. He yawned slowly and glared at him through narrowed eyes, lounging in the doorway like he was half asleep still.

_ On the whole,  _ Seungkwan thought,  _ at least he’s not scratching his ass. That’s a win. _

It was very amusing to see realisation dawn on Hansol’s handsome face: he blinked, eyes going round, and practically teleported straight up before slanting sideways again. “Seungkwan-ssi,” he got out in a low, gravelly voice. “Uh. Is it that time already?” He looked over his shoulder into the house, grimacing. “Uh. I had wanted to pre-clean a little…”

Seungkwan kept staring up at him because it was  _ fun _ seeing Chwe Hansol twitch like that; he looked so ruffled and confused it was pretty cute. “It’s nine AM,” he said. “You said nine.”

“Uh. Yes. I think?”

From the hazy, hesitant tone Seungkwan gathered he didn’t have much experience with nine AM. Staying silent, he crossed his hands on the bucket’s rim and waited. It was a  _ very _ pleasant view overall -- he had known there was muscle on the man, but it was quite different from seeing it on display. 

It took ninety seconds - Seungkwan counted in his head - before Chwe Hansol blinked again, and realization dawned. “Shit,” the cafe owner cursed. “I’m standing here like an idiot. Come on in, please.” He reached to take the bucket with cleaning supplies and stepped sideways into a hallway. “Coffee? I think I need coffee.”

“Yes, please.” Seungkwan entered the house and considered it -- it was very tiny from what he could see, with a single small corridor leading into a lounge area and through it a kitchen; it looked as if there were other doors leading to rooms and a bathroom and somesuch, but all his attention got nailed down by the incredible mess in the lounge area. There were clothes  _ everywhere,  _ some in piles that looked semi-folded and some in messy heaps. No food, thankfully, and he couldn’t smell anything rotten, but there were some weird things beneath all the clothes and paper mess: odd occult-looking posters, a small collection of crystals on a shelf, even a pack of what looked like large cards wrapped in silk.

The longer he stood, the more the smell of dog food hit him. Not the wet stuff, but the faintly pervasive scent of … ah, yes, the hall shoe closet wasn’t for shoes (an incredible mess of them in front of the little closet) but more dog food than he had seen in one place before. A bag near the bottom had torn open under the weight, spilling some of the pellets. 

“On second thought,” he called to the kitchen. “Skip the coffee and let’s just move straight to the soju!”

Hansol’s low laugh sounded softly in the kitchen as Seungkwan wandered thence: the place looked to be takeout container heaven, with boxes and plastic bowls and utensils strewn everywhere. There wasn’t even a fancy kettle, just a banged-up old thing that looked older than the fridge, which still had one of those lever handles. 

“This,” he said, fighting the urge to put his hands on his hips, “is  _ sad _ . How you don’t have rats I don’t know.”

Hansol shot him a sideways, mysterious smile before handing the large mug over. “The bathroom’s way more surprising.”

Seungkwan grimaced weakly, wondering whether he was up to the task if the bathroom looked worse than what he had seen so far. 

* * *

The bathroom turned out to be surprising indeed. Not because it was tiny, but because some past landlord had shoe-horned not only an ancient bath-shower combo but a washing machine in the severely restricted space. Then, in some fit of Chthonian madness, he had painted the entire mess a deep purple colour. 

“Oh my gosh,” Seungkwan breathed, disgusted and impressed and gobsmacked. “Oh my gosh, you have your very own eggplant emoji bathroom.” He scooted forward to sit on the edge of the tub and had to pull his knees to the side so that Hansol could sink down on the toilet without tripping over him. “Is everyone’s place like this? No wonder people glare at me like I’ve stolen their living somehow. How do you even fit in this tub?”

Hansol shuddered and shook his head. “I shower. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sit down in this. But the point is at least I can wash my clothes here, and the water pressure is surprisingly good.” He reached to comb his hands through his hair, but the locks refused to lie down straight. “Which, um, I should probably do. Shower. Sorry. I’m a mess in the mornings.”

Seungkwan clicked his tongue as he tried to stand. “Just in the mornings?” He managed to move past long legs with some difficulty, grimacing as his palms touched the purple paint - really, what had the owner been thinking? - and made himself scarcen. He heard the shower start behind him but made for the kitchen instead, groaning as he did so. Again, no food, but half of what was on the shelves should be displayed, and half of what was on display should be put away, and the man didn’t even have a  _ rice cooker _ .

_ Honestly, what kind of Korean didn’t have a rice cooker, if only one his parents gave him? _

He set to work, grumbling as he went along, but the grumbling soon changed to humming a FTISLAND song as he started to pile everything up on the small table in the middle. Plates, cups, weird dishes shaped like fish… the cauldrons surprised him, not because they were there but because they seemed well-used and well-scrubbed, and he hadn’t known Chwe Hansol was the type to make soap or whatever he did in these. Not that he blamed him, it probably cost a pretty penny taking that many puppies past the groomer. 

The silence dragged and dragged as he went through the cupboards, eventually finding an ancient rice cooker way deep in a cupboard playing host to a collection of dustrags. “Aish,” he muttered, clicking his tongue; he was right on the verge of a tizzy over the state of the fridge when he heard soft steps and looked up to see Chwe Hansol loom against the lintel of the kitchen door. “Chwe Hansol-ssi!” he said, crossing his arms. “Chwe Hansol-ssi, this is a disgrace! The only thing in this fridge that’s respectable is the kimchi drawer!”

Chwe Hansol had an odd smile on his face. “That’s not the kimchi drawer, it’s the freezer. It’s just not working, so I put the kimchi in there. My halmeoni makes delicious dongchimi.”

“I know,” Seungkwan pouted. “Like I said, the only respectable thing in there.” He yanked out a small bar stool and pointed to it. “Sit. Is your hair wet still? It’s actually dripping! Do you want to catch a cold?!”

Meekly, quite obviously trying to stifle a smile, Hansol made for the stool and perched on it, grabbing a nearby dishtowel to dry his hair.

“No!” Seungkwan called. “That’s been near dishes, gosh, you can’t use that! Hold on.” Bustling past, he made for the bathroom, zealously looked away from the clothes on the ground and returned, tossing it over the cafe owner’s head. “There. Dry.”

Chwe Hansol made a noise under the towel but dried his hair obediently. “Your music class must have been the most well-behaved ever,” he muttered under it.

It gave Seungkwan pause. “How did you know that I was a teacher?”

“Admission forms.”

Seungkwan spent a moment cursing the admission forms - they had given away entirely too many details. “So,” he muttered, “these are all your dishes. You have to go through them, think very carefully about what you want to keep, and separate the ones you don’t need any longer.” He paused. “From the film of dust on some of these, I can already guess. Oh, but you have to thank the dishes for helping you through the years! That’s very important. And only keeps what sparks joy. Like … what makes you happy using them.”

Chwe Hansol gave him a low, curious look beneath the towel as he ruffled his hair clean. “They’re dishes. I only feel joyful if they’re clean and I don’t have to wash them.”

Giving up, Seungkwan waved his hands in the air. “Just select what you use every few days, and after that get rid of what you haven’t used in at least a month. That doesn’t include heirlooms and so on, so go through it thoughtfully. I’ll start a load of washing.”

Scooting past, he was almost out of the door when something snaffled his sleeve and pulled him back.

“You supervise,” Chwe Hansol said sternly, hair still standing every which way. “Not on that ankle.”

Seungkwan’s eyes opened wide - he wasn’t used to his kids chatting back - and he opened his mouth to say something when it dissolved into a little shriek. Somehow, even with a towel over his head, Chwe Hansol had simply reached over and picked him up, plopping him up on one of the bare counters.

“Stay,” he ordered.

“I’m not one of your puppies or Bookkeu!”

“You might as well be, Seungkwan-ssi, you fuss just as much as they do. Stay.”

Seungkwan fought down a blush and huffed as he crossed his arms. Seconds later, when Chwe Hansol went to get his coffee and give it back to him, his shoulders drooped. “I can help though. I came to help.”

“Who was the one run over by an irresponsible ball of muscle a week ago?” Chwe Hansol asked as he started sorting dishes.

Seungkwan ignored the question and watched, sipping coffee, as the man sorted his dishes out. It took some time and to his surprise the cauldrons were nearly the first things he saved, but his heart felt curiously lighter when he saw him muttering a few words of thanks every now and then. It took a long time, but two hours later they were sitting in a divided kitchen -- there were two heaps now, with the stack to keep the smaller pile by far. When he muttered his approval he was allowed off the counter to help with stacking them back in their spots.

“What do I do with the rest?” Chwe Hansol muttered, looking at the pile still remaining on his table. 

Seungkwan considered it. Nothing was broken, just old in some cases. “We can wash them nicely and take them to a neighborhood sale, or we can donate them to one of the charity shops around here. They’ll either sell them or use them at a soup kitchen, and the money will get used for a good cause. Or to the cooperative here if you're part of it.”

“That’s good. It’s good to know they’ll be able to get used again,” Hansol said softly, fingers moving lovingly over the curve of one pretty plate. “And the other gadgets and utensils and stuff?”

“We could test them and see if they work. Perhaps there’s some of your friends that can use some of them? That’s if they’re as lost in the kitchen as you seem to be.” Seungkwan had to fight a smile. “Honestly, is your skill just restricted to lovely sweets and pastries?”

“I can’t imagine any of the _hyungdeul_ actually cooking…” Hansol replied thoughtfully, staring at the wall next to the fridge. “Oh… no. Wait. Seokmin- _hyung_ and Soonyoung- _hyung_. They recently moved in here and I’m guessing that their kitchen is still a little bare. Seokmin- _hyung’s_ a presenter on TV, and Soonyoung- _hyung’s_ got a taekwondo studio.” Hansol’s lips tucked into a mirthful smile. “He… um. Might I ask you a very strange question, Seungkwan-ssi?”

Seungkwan paused from nosing around in the pile to see if something caught his eye. “What is it?”

“How do you feel about non-general relationships?”

The question was enough to pause Seungkwan. “What do you mean?” he asked curiously. “Do you mean… like falling in love with murderous clowns or something?”

Chwe Hansol rolled his eyes before shaking his head. “Nothing quite that severe,” he got out. “No, I mean homosexual relationships and the like. Bukchon is very traditional but also very non-traditional if you get my drift?”

Seungkwan stared at him before flopping down on his stool again. “What a question to ask your landlord.”

“I feel it’s precisely because you’re our landlord that I need to ask. Most people don’t like it, but if you’re one of them I’d like to know before I introduce you to certain of my friends.”

Seungkwan inhaled and let out a whoosh of a sigh. “Frankly,” he said after a moment, “I never had that prejudice. I had enough problems growing up with only my mom to raise me and two _noonadeul_. I feel we have enough problems in life without going out and creating more.”

“Ah. Well, the two of them ardently profess themselves to be heterosexual life partners and they call each other ‘bro’ and it’s all very gay.” Chwe Hansol wrinkled his nose. “Not that I think they  _ actually _ like each other that way, but it might come across that way. I think you might like them. They’re very funny and jolly, and they can chat up a storm. Seokmin- _hyung’s_ little brother is my waiter -- Lee Chan. He’s dating my sister at the moment, so the cafe is sort of a family business, you see.”

Seungkwan’s eyebrows hitched. “Brave, dating your manager’s sister. Is he the dog-sitter I met this morning?”

Chwe Hansol smiled a squinty-eyed smile at him. “That’s correct. Besides, I’m the chill one in the family. Sof -- Sofia -- is the, um, the one that’s better about keeping the house clean at least. She lives with my parents though -- I pity my father sometimes.”

A warm feeling ran through Seungkwan. Against his will he smiled at that. “Think how proud she’s going to be when she visits and the place is neat,” he said softly. “It’s not going to happen soon, but we made a start here. Speaking of which, you really need to tackle getting all your clothes clean before you can sort through them.”

Chwe Hansol inhaled through his teeth and nodded. “Right. Okay. That next, then lunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * No one special in this chapter, just mentions of a few more characters. 
>   * This isn't a SeonSoon, sorry. 
>   * No, Chan isn't normal either, but what he is... well, that'll come out too. 
> 



	5. Felling A Giant

Chwe Hansol had enough clothes to kill a clotheshorse -- or at least it seemed that way when Seungkwan helped him sort through them. He demonstrated the Konmari fold over and over for his host, hands working automatically, until he finally broke off with a sigh. “Hansol-ssi, why do you have so many clothes? Were you a model or an idol in your previous life?”

“I’m a rapper,” came the surprising answer from beneath another pile of clothes. “Some of these are stage clothes.”

Seungkwan blinked. Of all of the answers he didn’t suspect, he didn’t even… suspect that one. “What?” he asked, voice tightening a little. “Wow. No wonder it looks like the inside of Drake’s closet in here. Rapper… wow. In the underground scene?”

Chwe Vernon appeared from behind the pile of clothes, wrinkling his nose at the little box-like folds Seungkwan had put his clean shirts in. “Yes,” he admitted. “I was street-cast once upon a time and spent a few years in an entertainment company, but with one thing and the other, I couldn’t continue. I still like performing though, so I go to the clubs every so often. And thank you, I’ll take ‘Drake’s closet’ as a compliment, that man is rich rich.”

Seungkwan considered the tall, really way-too-hot cafe owner.  _ I can see it, _ he grumbled internally.  _ I can really see it, he’s handsome enough for it, but I don’t hear any other training in his voice. _ “So you’re sort of a night owl then? I…”

They both stopped as someone hammered on the door. When his host went, frowning, to open it up it was a very tall individual dressed in really strange robes; the kind of robes that one would see in a Chinese historical drama, really. “You have to rescue me,” the man begged abjectly. “Hao-Hao’s on the war path and I’m going to get killed. I didn’t even do anything much, just picked the sage at the wrong lunar time, please tell me you… have… some…” He blinked at Seungkwan and pulled himself together, straightening. “You have a new boyfriend? I hope you’re going to let me vet this one, he looks like he’s out on the make.”

Seungkwan’s mouth snapped together in a thin line.

“Wah, scary,” the man muttered. “If it wasn’t for the fact I was invisible…”

Seungkwan could feel his eye do that thing where it presaged a temper.

“Hyung,” Chwe Hansol said wearily. “He  _ can _ see you.”

“Oh!” the man said flightily. “Bro, good job.” He shot Seungkwan a thumbs-up. “So, about that sage?”

“Chwe Hansol-ssi,” Seungkwan got out. “Who is this… this individual?” He struggled to stand, fighting the urge to stamp his fucked-up ankle. “I’m neither his boyfriend nor out on the make! How dare you!”

Chwe Hansol stared between them and wordlessly left for the kitchen.

The man tilted his very pretty chin up into the air. “You’re the one sitting here in the den of one of the most powerful ma…”

A cough from the kitchen interrupted him.

“...men in this village,” the man continued smoothly. “Sorry. Hi. Hello, I’m Wen Junhui, and you are?”

Something about the very smooth way Wen Junhui recovered rang alarm bells in Seungkwan’s head. Still, his mother raised him right, so he bobbed a bow. “Boo Seungkwan. Pleased to meet you. Your Korean is really good.” He twisted his head back to the kitchen. “I think we put the sage on the second shelf near to your stove!”

Wen Junhui’s eyes went languorous and heavy -- it looked  _ ridiculous _ \-- as he tilted his head. “You work with plants too?”

“No?” Seungkwan got out. “But sometimes you have to add it to chicken and so on for Western food.”

Hansol made his way out of the kitchen, carrying a plastic Tupperware container tightly sealed, one Seungkwan had  _ not _ seen before. “It’s okay,” he said to Seungkwan. “Hyung here is one of those natural herb healing… people. He’s not as scatterbrained as he looks. Remember that tea I brought over to your place? He made it.”

Wen Junhui’s gaze slid from slumbrous to interested. “But then… then you’re the one that Mingyu-ya ran over in front of Hansol-ah’s shop?”

The twitching returned to Seungkwan’s eye. “Yes… and I still need to speak to him about that, so if you wouldn’t mind telling him that I need to speak to him, Wen Junhui-ssi, I would really appreciate that. He just cut and ran, and I’ve not seen him since, nor had a decent apology! If the people in the shop hadn’t helped out so much, I wouldn’t even be here today!” He paused, suddenly thoughtful. “And why does sage need to be picked at a lunar time? It’s not like you can tell when it’s all dried up and in a stock, right?”

The two men stared at him, Wen Junhui looking obscurely hurt and Chwe Hansol looking grimly amused. 

“I… I have no words,” Wen Junhui whispered, and turned to flounce his way out of the house. 

Chwe Hansol carefully closed the door before he sunk down on his haunches right at the doorway, howling like a hyena from laughing too hard.

Seungkwan, mystified, just shook his head and continued folding clothes. “You have some weird friends,” he muttered. “Aren’t they called naturopaths, in any case?”

“Seungkwan-ssi,” Chwe Hansol said, fighting for air. “Seungkwan-ssi, you are certifiably a wonder. I wouldn’t be surprised if Minghao came here to shake your hand for puncturing Junhui’s ego that neatly. I want to do it myself.”

“No thank you,” Seungkwan muttered, cheeks and ears pink. “And after this, we’re going through the Tupperware section you chose to hide from me.”

* * *

Seungkwan didn’t stay much beyond lunch, given that he was worried about Bookkeu -- not that he should have been, given that the little puppy had absolutely played himself out and slept all the way to his apartment without a single whine. He closed the door behind him with a soft sigh and transferred the puppy to his plush doggy bed and went straight to the shower, feeling as if layers of grime had been caked on him. He had practically just got out when a thundering at his door drew a frown, that and Bookkeu’s delighted yapping. 

He cinched his robe tightly shut around his waist and cautiously peered through, boggling at the other side. There, in some sort of elbow-fight, was Lee Jihoon-ssi, Hong Jisoo-ssi and very tall walking disaster Kim Mingyu-ssi.

“...we know where he lives in any case?” Hong Jisoo was asking as he opened the door. “Stop fighting… no, stop  _ fighting  _ or I swear I’m gonna… oh. Boo Seungkwan-ssi.”

Seungkwan stared at the sudden innocence on everyone’s faces. “I don’t think the clown car would accept them back inside anyway, Hong Jisoo-ssi,” he said wearily, pulling his robe even tighter around himself. “Are you here to run into me again, or something else? Or something about a corpse?”

“What?” Lee Jihoon asked, confused, before his expression cleared. “Oh. Undertaker, right. No, no corpses. We just brought him along so that he could apologise to you, and we brought some food, and I wanted to see your doggo again.”

Kim Mingyu held up a gigantic takeaway bag with the most doleful puppy expression on his face. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to apologise but I didn’t know where you lived and it didn’t occur to me that the others might know.” He slowly extended the bag to Seungkwan. “Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you this badly at all, it was just… it was the hydrant’s fault!”

Hong Jisoo clicked his tongue. “I’m here to check your ankle since you’ve not been back to the clinic in the past few days. May we come in?”

_ Is this what it’s going to be like, being a landlord? People just showing up at your doorstep? _

“Uh, sure,” he finally got out, giving up on the entire situation. “Let me just get clothes on. Come and make yourself at home.”

Seungkwan left them to it, going to slip into a tracksuit; when he came back Kim Mingyu was in his kitchen, Hong Jisoo watching him like an eagle and Lee Jihoon?  _ He _ was stretched out on the carpet of the living room in front of the TV, quite obviously asleep with Bookkeu slumbering on his chest. For a moment he just stared, wondering why his quite picky little puppy was so enthralled with the short man, before he made his way to the kitchen.

“I’m almost done,” Kim Mingyu grinned at him as he hauled the cabinets open. “All we need to wrap it up now is a little laver… do you have any?”

Seungkwan stared and stared. “No, I’ve not had time to shop, sorry. Um, why are you so good in the kitchen?” He was, to be frank, surprised -- all the dishes were scooped out already, the presentation looked really good, and there wasn’t a trace of the bags and containers. “Have you already sorted the  _ trash _ ?”

“Jisoo-hyung did that. I’ll just quickly run down to the shop here, I noticed it on the corner…” Zooming away, the tall tree didn’t give Seungkwan much time to respond, scooting out of the apartment before he could say anything.

“Seungkwan-ssi,” Jisoo said, handing him a glass of wine. “On the couch please, I need to check out your ankle.”

_ Really, this is too surreal. I’ve heard of friendly people before but house-calls again? In this day and age? _

“If you wish,” he muttered neutrally, making his way to the couch. Lee Jihoon didn’t stir as he moved past, nor did Bookkeu, and for a moment Seungkwan wanted to sulk at the dognapping before he flopped on the couch with a sigh. He took one sip of wine, followed by another, before he felt sufficiently at ease with the way that Hong Jisoo lifted his leg and slipped his sock off. His ankle didn’t look blue and purple anymore, just a smear of fading bruise-green and yellow, and when Hong Jisoo prodded his finger in there it didn’t twinge at all.

“It’s looking good,” Hong Jisoo said, eyelined eyes downturned as he prodded and poke at it to feel at the bone and flesh. “Luckily your Achilles didn’t get injured, it’s still straight now that I can see it.”

Seungkwan peered down as well, leaning to get closer. “Which one was the one that got hurt?” he asked curiously. “I mean, the lady that wrapped my foot told me, but… hey!” His foot jerked.

Hong Jisoo grinned at that, one hand holding Seungkwan’s foot strongly to pull it back. “At least we know you’re ticklish. Okay. Look here.” Twisting the foot a little, his thumb pressed into the outside, sliding from the ankle down to the sole in an arc. “These little bones here are connected by three major ligaments. They generally protect your foot against being sprained and serve to stabilise it, but if people do silly things like twist their ankles when they fall, they might tear or rupture.”

Fascinated, Seungkwan watched as Hong Jisoo dug his fingertips in on a spot, eyelids sinking to half-mast. “Can you feel them?” he asked, fascinated.”

“I can feel the attachment sites on the bone, yes,” the man muttered. “Luckily yours wasn’t in one of the larger ligaments but here in the CFL - the calcaneofibular ligament. I had worried it might be your peroneus brevis, but luckily not. At least you were a good boy about wearing the brace.” He shifted, putting Seungkwan’s foot down on his thigh and prosaically pulled his sock on again. “I’d feel better if you wore an ankle brace for another week, just in case, but the healing has mostly been done. I…”

A huge noise came from outside, mixed shouts and cursing; Seungkwan nearly spilled his glass of wine and Hong Jisoo dropped his foot half-dressed, but it was the sleeping undertaker that impressed him the most. He had somehow gone from sleeping on the floor to staring out the window in a second flat, Bookkeu still curled to his chest but no signs of slumber on his face.

White-faced, Seungkwan made for his window as well, and crowded in against it as Lee Jihoon made space for him. His eyes rounded large as he looked out the window at the ground a few stories below. There, surrounded by spilled groceries and a few comically-rolling fruit, Kim Mingyu lay stretched out on the pavement groaning, looking as if he had fallen over thin air. Over him, staring quizzically down, Seungkwan could just about see his lawyer’s expression: Jeon Wonwoo looked comically surprised, one hand already stretching down to help Kim Mingyu up.

“No way,” Lee Jihoon breathed out. “No way, someone made Mingyu-ya fall?”

Even Hong Jisoo looked amazed as he craned his head out, going so far as to open the window to stare better. “I’d say so,” he said, sounding oddly amused. “Go and help him, Jihoon-ah, no one should have to support that much muscle. I’ll have to check him over in any case.”

Seungkwan, baffled, leant back to watch the two of them. 

_ It almost sounds like they’re glad? Like they’re amused somehow that he fell? But that can’t be right? _

He blinked as Hong Jisoo spoke again. “I’m sorry, please repeat that?”

The doctor gave him a small smile. “I asked if you recognised that man helping him, it looked as if you did.”

“Oh… yeah,” Seungkwan muttered. “That’s my lawyer. Jeon Wonwoo.”

“Ah really? Well well,” Hong Jisoo muttered. “Well, well, well. That’s interesting.”


	6. The Secret Garden

“And then he said ‘That’s interesting’!” Seungkwan ranted as he went through his wallet, digging out all the old stubs and receipts in it. “I expected more worry about Kim Mingyu- _ssi_ , you know, even though he turned out to be alright and he's an accident waiting to happen in any case.”

The night before had been strange _par excellance_ ; his apartment had been invaded by four people that somehow made an exceeding amount of noise. Not even the admittedly pleasant dinner had pacified him a little, and the paperwork that Jeon Wonwoo- _ssi_ had brought him had only made his headache worse. The city’s inspectors had demanded that he inspect the district before signing over the last of the area, if only so he couldn’t sue them for mismanagement and malpractice. The next morning, Bookkeu had picked up on his mood and been irritable; he didn’t want to play with his toys, or sit still for the little dog diaper, and moaned until Seungkwan put him in the crochet carry-bag with his favourite toy.

Getting to Eclipse Café was becoming habit: he navigated the buses without problems, switching without thinking, and only woke up when he saw the door of the place. It hadn’t been open but a frantic waving had attracted Hansol’s attention. Now… well, now he aggressively sipped his Iced Americano whilst Bookkeu introduced the puppies to Squeaky the Duck.

“ _ Was _ Mingyu- _ssi_ alright?” Hansol asked, doing something arcane at the counter.

Seungkwan pulled a face. “He bruised his ego, but luckily ‘a very handsome man’ picked him up so he’s fine. That’s a direct quote, by the way… yes, Lee Jihoon- _ssi_ rolled his eyes as well, just like that. You two must be brothers.” He fell quiet for a while, neatly stacking the receipts, before he cleared his throat. “Um, anyway, I was wondering whether you’d come with me? I  _ have _ to take that tour of the district and sign off that it’s all fine, but looking at your place and that horrid bathroom, I’m not sure all is fine. I’m still thinking we should strip those walls down and paint them white or something, and at least put in a decent shower.”

Hansol shot him a look. “I don’t mind going with,” he said at length. “Did they give you a copy of the bylaws?”

Goggling, Seungkwan stared at him. “There are bylaws?”

Over in one corner, the lizards’ steps sounded very loud in the silence that fell, punctuated with an insistent squeak-squeak-squeak. Seungkwan spared them a quick look - one seemed to be aiming for him again, looking particularly red-hued and blurry. He tried to clear his eyes with a couple of furious blinks as Hansol did… well, whatever Hansol did when he thought, which passed like continental movement sometimes.

“There are bylaws, I’ll get you a copy,” Hansol finally said. “And I’ll go with you once Chan comes in. But… well. It’s not the most modern of places. You had best prepare yourself.”

Not knowing what to do with  _ that _ dire if indirect warning, Seungkwan merely nodded. 

Chan came in, all smiles, and listened attentively as Seungkwan quizzed him on how the first exam went - well enough, apparently - then kicked them out with travel mugs. They took their time meandering to the district itself, weaving through the crowds to gain admittance of it. To Seungkwan it felt as if history crowded in on him, threatening to spill over his head: the streets were very narrow in places, skirted in with strange round walls and throngs of people. 

Not even the pull of introductions eased him much as they entered into the belly of it, until they came to an unassuming bicycle shop, somewhat ramshackle and neglected. He bowed nervously to the _ahjussi_ behind the counter, murmuring a greeting, before letting Hansol lead him to the small rough garden adjacent to it. There was a gate in it at the end, old and with peeling paint covering most of it; when he walked closer past a tree a kitten fell on his shoulder like a dive-bombing bird, and he startled hard enough to shriek with surprise.

The kitten rode out the shriek and laughter from Hansol’s side, curving its nails into Seungkwan’s shoulder for stability, and gave a couple of impatient meows before butting its cheek against Seungkwan’s head. Confused and on the edge of running, he fumed impatiently as he heard a phone camera, turning to glare crossly at Hansol.

“What is it with this place?” he ranted a little incoherently. “If it’s not lizards it’s kittens, and weird bathrooms, and lunar cycle sage and…”

Hansol stretched out a hand to steady him. “Look at the kitten,” he advised.

It was a bit of a neck-wrench to look at the fiend on his shoulder, but with a gasp Seungkwan stopped, recognising the kitten that had jumped on his shoulder the other day. “It’s you!” He reached up to tickle it, getting a buzzing purr for his trouble. “You’re in so much trouble, why did you run away again? Naughty kitty, you should stay with Hansol- _ssi_!”

“It’s a losing proposition,” Hansol mumbled as he reached for the gate. He frowned as he reached for the latch, looking back over his shoulder to Seungkwan. “How are you feeling?”

Seungkwan, in the process of letting the kitten creep into the pocket of his hoodie, looked up. For a moment, between the light wind and the odd quiet, Hansol didn’t seem like Hansol: this one had a strong look in his eyes even with a fringe that flopped madly, and there was something about him… he blinked, and the old Hansol resolved back, ratty t-shirt and hairy legs and slides. “I’m feeling fine, why?”

Hansol’s head tilted to one side. “You keep on blinking like the sun’s hurting your eyes.”

“I’m fine,” Seungkwan mumbled, eventually getting the kitten to sit in the pocket where, as he looked, it promptly went to sleep. “They’re just watering a bit, the sunlight is very bright.”

Hansol nodded and turned, unlatching the gate. He had to push his shoulder to it to make it swing open against the weeds on the other side, but when it was open enough he made an entirely ironic bow to Seungkwan. “Your new home. I think.”

Seungkwan stood in the gate and tried to breathe, feeling as if he had a knot in his throat he couldn’t get past. There  _ was _ an old ramshackle home deeper into the property, certainly large enough for two families, but it was the stretch of ground that amazed him. He had never seen that much untamed wilderness in Seoul, certainly not privately owned. It had large trees in a little copse to one side with a swing in one tree, enough overgrown garden that it would take weeks to restore it, and little outbuildings here and there, most of which looked to be on their last legs. There was a beehive too somewhere; he could hear the buzzing of bees drone on.

Despite that, he could still see traces of beauty -- it was mostly the same style as the buildings outside, and there were little glints of paint in the corners of the roof.

Dazed, he moved forward and stepped onto the land for the first time. It felt as if a lightning-bolt struck from the heel of his foot up towards his heart. His throat closed, his eyes blurred again, and slowly he pitched forward, consciousness guttered out.

* * *

  
  


It felt like a long time before he came out of the darkness: he was warm and someone held him carefully and there was a cool cloth over his eyes and someone - something? - purring very close to his ear. The headache though, the headache was  _ bad _ . Below that came the odd smell of dry dog food and musk and something like lightning, sharp and crackly.

“...didn’t know the wards…!” someone said close to him, and through the headache it sounded like Hansol. 

_ Ouch, talk softer… _

Fighting one eye open took more of his strength than he thought; he couldn’t pay attention to the argument, and he couldn’t open it very far. Fingers helped though, until they peeled his eyelid back for him and the blob in front of him resolved in another eye, this one very light green with a cat-eyed vertical iris in it. 

_ Is it the kitten? Why’s the eye so large? _

“Kitty kitty,” he garbled out, trying to lift one hand, and succeeded only in flopping it against what felt like someone’s cheek. A raucous shout of laughter pained him so much he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.

“Here,” someone else said. “Turn him this way, Hansol-ah. Soonyoung- _hyung_ , get his feet.”

He wasn’t sure who that person was, but seconds later after he got shifted around long fingers crept into his hair and then down to his nape, pressing into twin spots on the sides of his spine that made the pain flare bright, then retreat. His heart was thundering so hard he could hear it in his head, but the person’s murmuring went against that in soothing little surges.  _ Ocean waves _ , he thought dimly.  _ He’s ocean waves in my head. _

Strong fingers bit into the top of his feet but even they felt good… at least until he realised someone had taken off the sweaty socks he had been walking in, and that was gross enough to make him fight to sit straight.

The hands let him; when he managed to get his eyes open again he was half-braced on Hansol still, but there was a very cheerful, very sharp-eyed man massaging the tops of his feet, and he could barely see the shadow of a reed-thin person behind him. The owner of the magical hands, no doubt. To top it all off, the kitten had somehow gravitated from his pocket to his shoulder again, clinging to remain there against the movement.

The person with the magic hands came forward, dressed in the same robes Hansol’s acquaintance Jun had been, but he looked like a thin slip of wind in them, with a bit of a mullet and ironically gold-rimmed glasses. “Hello,” he murmured; Seungkwan couldn’t think that he’d ever do anything to be scared of. “Be cautious, your blood pressure is very low at the moment. Just take things slowly.”

“Wahhh~~~” the man beside him said, looking at Seungkwan through extremely slanted eyes that reminded him a little of the kitten. “You have good feet for dancing, are you a dancer?”

Seungkwan, for the first time in his life, didn’t know what to say -- what did you say to a guy that complimented your gross sweaty walking feet out of nowhere? “Uh… no?” he stuttered, curving back a little into the familiar arm that still held him safe. “Um. Thank you. Sorry. I… don’t know what happened?”

“You passed out,” Hansol murmured next to his ear in a rumble he didn’t so much hear as feel. 

Seungkwan tried not to feel like a loser and failed miserably, feeling a pout crawl onto his face. He wanted to sniffle, but fought it back because he was an  _ adult _ and there were strangers and… “I wasn’t feeling strange,” he defended himself quietly. He glanced at the others - just for a moment it looked as if the guy that had pressed on his feet had black-and-white stripes in his hair - and furiously blinked.

The thin man looked at him, touching his chin with two fingers to move his face around, and held another up. “Follow my finger,” he said softly.

Seungkwan stared at the finger, following it to and fro. “Are you… sorry, but you’re the guy the naturopath was getting the sage for, right? Wen Junhui-ssi’s friend?”

Behind him he could practically feel Hansol’s desire to cough, but it turned into a suppressed laugh instead. “This is Xu Minghao-ssi,” he muttered. “And that’s Kwon Soonyoung-ssi.”

“That’s right,” Xu Minghao said, reaching for Seungkwan’s forehead. “Does it hurt…”

“Ow!” Seungkwan yanked his head back after a second of Xu Minghao’s very pointy thumbs pressing into the middle of his forehead. “Yes! It hurts!” Not even the sight of Kwon Soonyoung pulling little faces at the kitten on his shoulder made the moment even better. “Ow, what are you doing?”

Xu Minghao gave him a small smile. “Sorry. I wonder… were you born in the winter months?”

“January 16th,” Hansol confirmed over his shoulder. Then, as an aside, “Sorry… admittance forms.”

“Damn admittance forms,” Seungkwan mumbled. “Damn eidetic memory.”

Xu Minghao got to his feet and pulled him up. “You’ll be alright,” he opined. “But you should go to get your blood pressure and sugar levels checked again, they might be scrambled for a while. Your yang energy took a hit.” He glanced to his side, then to the kitten, then Hansol. “I do have to leave, for which I apologise, but I think you will be cared for. Please come by the shop, I can prescribe some supplements that might help.”

Seungkwan perked up. “You have a shop here too? Yes, I will! Thank you, Xu Minghao-ssi, and, um, Kwon Soonyoung-ssi -- that’s a really fierce hair dye you have there… um, thank you for helping, both of you.”

“Hey, no problem, thank you for that blender!” Kwon Soonyoung said, bouncing upright. “Hansol-ah said you said to give it away. Anytime, dude. You’re, like, my new landlord, right?”

_ Another one? Where are all these people coming from? I’m starting to feel like I’ve got a million retainers or something... _

They left, not before Xu Minghao muttered something in Mandarin, but seconds later it was as if they had never been there. Seungkwan watched them go, feeling the oddest he had ever felt in his life before, and it was only when he turned to look around that he realised Hansol had somehow moved him back into the bicycle shop. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he said half-despairingly. “I’m really not ill or anything, I swear, and I ate breakfast this morning! And what did he mean about my yang energy anyway?”

“If you want to call an Iced Americano breakfast, sure,” Hansol murmured. “Come on. You can say you saw the place and it’s run-down but intact. My couch might be ugly, but you can lie down on it and I can try to explain.”

“I should get back...”

Hansol turned to face him. “My couch,” he said implacably. “I’ll order take-out.”

Seungkwan inhaled to argue but somehow it didn’t seem worth it so he went with, but he took care to sulk all the way back to the funny house, even if he also clung to Hansol’s hand in case he fainted again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * The truth is starting to get out. 
>   * From what I've read, in Chinese culture having the third eye is called having yin-yang eyes - you see spirits and things. 
>   * The points Minghao pressed were acupuncture points to try and lessen the headache. 
>   * This Hoshi is inspired by a very excellent fanart of him with a white tiger I once saw, by a fabulous artist called Gehenna Pham. 
>   * Any guesses as to how Seungkwan's going to take the reveal? 
> 



	7. Confronted by Reality

Vernon’s house, perhaps thanks to its age and thick walls, felt a little cooler inside than the hot day outside and the couch, whilst ugly, was very comfortable. It took Seungkwan a little to get used to it - it seemed to have settled in Vernon’s lines - but he found a nice spot to curl up and rest his aching head. _That_ he wished had stayed away, but the pain from Minghao’s last poke radiated from his forehead like a brand. He surreptitiously checked that his socks were still clean enough, then folded his legs underneath himself and closed his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how much later it was when he woke up, disorientated and with Bookkeu sleeping on his stomach. Someone had stretched him out on the couch and tucked a light blanket around him; only the tiny windows and the hideous purple bathroom’s light broke the night’s gloom.

Maneuvering around Bookkeu took very little effort; it took more effort to hold his head straight for some reason, and his stomach growled with hunger. He patted around for his cellphone, found it out of power and sighed grumpily as he slowly stretched, grumbling to himself.

_I didn’t think the couch was that comfortable, and how did Bookkeu get here? Did he go already?_

A shadow hoved into view from the kitchen, broad-shouldered and shrouded in gloom; Seungkwan uttered a short, sharp shriek and scuttled away faster than possible, calming only when it laughed at him and a large hand came to stroke Bookkeu’s complaining ears. 

“Jumpy, Seungkwan-ssi,” Hansol murmured as he came to hunker by the couch. “You’re safe here. How are you feeling?” He reached sideways to flick a nearby light on, creating a golden pool of it half over Seungkwan.

Seungkwan stared down at him, baffled for a moment. Hansol’s eyes looked strange and dark in the half-light, as if there was more to him than met the eye. Right on queue, his head ached again, but then strong fingers reached to pinch at the skin just above the bridge of his nose, bringing with it the smell of soap and puppy and something faintly musky. “I don’t know,” he whispered, abruptly feeling small; it reminded him of when he used to imagine monsters outside the family apartment and underneath his bed.

The pinch between his brows gentled, turning into a palm warm against his cheek for a moment before Hansol sat back and stood. “I’m worried,” he admitted. “You’re not the type to randomly faint, are you?”

“No,” Seungkwan admitted. “I’m not. I’m dependable, I exercise, and I try to live healthy. I’m as normal as every other guy out there, I promise.”

Hansol moved to fold onto the couch next to him. “The world is stranger than most people think,” he said easily. “And sometimes… sometimes people don’t understand the depth of it.”

Seungkwan wrinkled his nose. “I’m not a child, Hansol-ssi, you don’t have to make it sound as easy as that for me. I’m probably just a little fatigued, didn’t your friend say something about low blood pressure or something? I’ll go to the clinic and get it sorted.” He watched as Hansol’s face did something strange at that, an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. “What?” he pressed.

“I don’t understand,” Hansol muttered. “People always want to keep their eyes shut and not see the truth of things, and I don’t understand why. It’s not as if a wonder in the world and being a dependable adult are mutually exclusive. I…” He reached a hand up to rub at his face. “Nevermind. Look, I wanted to ask you a question. If you’re not going to stay in that house, or even if you are if you wouldn’t mind, may I hire some land for the puppies to play on? You have so much land there, and it’s safe, they won’t get hurt there.”

Seungkwan felt divided. He felt he knew Hansol well enough to realise something was off, but not well enough to speculate what; whichever it is, it felt as if he had disappointed him somehow. “As long as you or your designated walker can make sure that they don’t dig up holes and things everywhere, I don’t mind? You don’t have to pay, Hansol-ssi, surely we’re past that, right? As… um, as your landlord isn’t it my duty to look after your needs in any case?”

Hansol shot him a very strange look. “I don’t think you know what you’re offering,” he finally said. “My needs are more than a coat of paint on a very purple bathroom in any case.”

Wanting to blush, Seungkwan merely pouted. “Then what do you want?”

“I want you to see what’s really there, oh my god!” Hansol burst out. “Sometimes I think Bookkeu knows more of what’s going on than you do!”

“I don’t know what you mean!” Seungkwan snapped back. “Start making sense and maybe I can! And there’s no need to be impolite and involve my dog!”

Hansol stared at him, lips pressed thin, before he nodded. “Alright. Come on. Get your shoes on.” He stood and reached to pull on the hand that Seungkwan had been flapping around. “You want me to make sense? Okay.”

No matter how Seungkwan complained, Hansol chivvied him into his shoes and a huge coat, scooped Bookkeu into a pocket and set off with him. Their pace wasn’t too fast but _inexorable_ ; they were at Eclipse Cafe before he knew what hit him. Hansol motioned him inside and locked the door behind them, leaving him to stare at the night-dark café -- well, not night-dark, not with the street lights and the… and the…

His thoughts faltered as he felt hands creep over his shoulders. They reached up to cover his eyes and his back felt warmth from Hansol’s sturdy frame; it made him shiver and blush again, and he nearly growled at himself for that reaction.

“Stop thinking,” Hansol murmured into his ear, walking him deeper into the shop with pressure against his back. “I won’t let you fall. Just stop thinking, and concentrate on what you hear, what you _feel_.”

“Hansol-ssi…”

“Humor me, please.”

Seungkwan grumped and closed his eyes under Hansol’s palms, walking with. It took time to relax, but eventually he did in the library ambiance of it: warmth, the smell of dusty books and sweet desserts, the sound of the fire crackling, the slight noise of puppies snoring…

_...wait._

He could clearly hear the fire crackle and snap, he could practically feel the heat on his face, but he _knew_ there had been no fire when he came in. He could even smell it, not as dry and clean as always but faintly scented, as if someone was burning costly incense. Inhaling deeply, he shuddered at the scent of it; it combined almost appetisingly with Hansol behind him, the cool watery scent of him. “I… you have a fire in here?” he whispered. “I can hear it, and it smells like incense.”

“No,” Hansol murmured; Seungkwan could feel him smile against his temple. It felt so _intimate_ he wanted to step away, but something nailed him down, kept him from moving. “I don’t have a fire in here. It was hot today, why would I?”

Seungkwan frowned, struggling. “But I can smell it,” he insisted.” He lifted a hand, coasted it from side to side, and finally nailed it down - something very hot close to him. “You _do_ have one,” he insisted. “Right there. Or is it a candle?”

Hansol laughed at that. “Why would I have a candle in here?” he asked, voice sounding fey and indulgent, totally unlike his normal chill tones or his angry voice. His hands shifted, settling on Seungkwan’s shoulders before he murmured something into the hair on the back of his head. “Why don’t you take a look?”

Seungkwan had never thought he’d have a life-defining moment, but as he opened his eye slowly it happened: he was looking at one of the lizards in the shop, chilling in a log-filled box on a shelf, and it was _burning_ . It was burning in all the colours of dawn, from a cool blue to the most glorious pinks and oranges. It was watching him too, beady eyes half-open. Nothing _else_ burned, not the shelf or the books behind it or even his hand, which was closer than he thought and in the midst of flames. 

The world shifted beneath him. Tears sprang to his eyes and he sobbed as the flaming lizard bumped at his hand, waking up enough to walk onto his arm and up to his shoulder. It draped there, reminiscent of the heat of the first time, and pushed Hansol’s hands away arrogantly. Through his tears he registered the firefly flickering of dozens more glows: there were lizards everywhere, and puppies with sullen fireball flame floofy tails, and the glimmer of strangely netted writing. He turned to demand an explanation, and his words stuttered to a halt.

Chwe Hansol’s skin was smooth pearl, youthful and vibrant; the same little lines of netted writing framed his eyes, which were really honey-toned now, not the light brown he had gotten used to. His features looked refined, and the sense of power coming off him was so powerful it wanted to close Seungkwan’s throat. All of a sudden he understood what he had been lecturing and ordering around; even if there was no explanation, he couldn’t deny that something was different, or that flames were still idly tickling at his ears as the lizard dozed there.

“I…” he stuttered. “I… I…”

Hansol tilted his head slightly. “You?” he said, lips quirking before spreading in a wide smile. 

Seungkwan gave a step back, then two; he froze when Hansol’s expression cooled into something sad. “This isn’t a dream?” he questioned, reaching to pinch himself.

Hansol reached to stop him. “Don’t hurt yourself. No, it’s not a dream. There really is more to life than most people see; you’re blessed enough that you _can_ see, even if we know nothing else of what you can do. I had my suspicions, but seeing you pass out at crossing the wards yesterday confirmed them, as did Myungho- _hyung_ \-- you’re not so normal as you’ve been thinking, Seungkwan- _ssi_.”

“But,” Seungkwan stuttered again. “But this can’t…”

“Think,” Hansol said sharply. “Believe. There is a lizard _on fire_ around your neck and it’s not hurting you. You can see the puppies fully now, right? Earlier you saw Soonyoung- _hyung_ ’s cat eye and thought it the kitten. Your eyes can lie to you, but not all your senses at once, right? Smell, touch, hearing… all of them are telling you something, and it’s for you to get past that hurdle of being told fairy tales don’t exist.”

Thoughts and memories ran rampant through Seungkwan’s mind as he stared at Hansol’s honey eyes: his parents arguing, the monsters that had been under his bed and his friends until he had stopped believing in them, the way that _yes_ there was fire and it wasn’t burning him, even the strange characters that he had met the past week or so. It warred in him, made the noise inside his head even worse, until he couldn’t take it any longer.

Sobbing, abruptly crying, he took the lizard from his shoulders and pressed it into Hansol’s hands before fleeing. He didn’t care that Hansol’s old greatcoat flapped at him, or that it was in the middle of the night, or all the other thoughts pressing in on him: all he cared about was getting home and crawling under his blankets where he could be safe and the world wouldn’t lie to him anymore. Instead of thought, he curled up around Bookkeu and prayed for the world to make sense again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * In Hansol's defense, he's tired and worried, that's why he snapped. 
>   * In Seungkwan's defense, there was a lizard on fire. 
>   * Next week, the fallout involving: an undertaker, a cat, and a naturopath of sorts. 
> 



	8. The Ambassador

Morning wasn’t kind to Seungkwan. He felt tacky and horrible - no shower last night, a crying spree and a dirty face tanked his mood. Hearing a thunderous knocking on his door, along with Bookkeu’s frantic barking, was really the cherry on a perfectly dreadful cake. He dragged himself to the door, uncaring that he looked like a hobo with his hair wild and the coat still around him, and flung it open, preparing to go nuclear on whoever was outside.

Well. 

Somewhat nuclear at least.

He stared up at the stranger with a nose like a swordfish, then down to the all-too-familiar kitten the man held in his hands. Grumpy, unwilling to converse, Seungkwan reached out to snatch the kitten, kicked the door shut and collapsed against it, feeling done with the world. Not even the stranger’s confused calls and knocking made a dent.

_ Nothing _ made a dent until the kitten hopped out of his hands, made itself at home on the hard-wear carpeting and sat staring at him judgmentally.

“Seungkwan-ssi?” came the stranger’s door through the voice after a few moments. “Seungkwan-ssi, I know you must be scared. It’s totally understandable. Just listen to me a bit, alright? We’re worried about you.”

“I’ve never met you in my life,” Seungkwan mumbled, not to the man but the kitten. He wasn’t sure why, but the stare made his tears well up, plopping fat and unneeded over his cheeks.

The kitten continued to stare at him, green-green eyes very bright in the morning light. Bookkeu, the traitor, came to nose at it, then pushed by to curl up in the space between Seungkwan’s chest and legs.

He felt a peculiar thud against his back, as if a body was sliding down the other side of the door. It took moments for the person to speak again. “The first time I found out about it was because my noona had gotten involved with some pretty bad people,” he shared. “You see messages about cults and stuff, but obviously you think it happens to other people. I just turned out to be one of the other people. I won’t go into detail - perhaps I can take you out for a drink someday - but the people you met? They helped me. They’re not bad people.”

Somehow, through the feeling of betrayal, Seungkwan’s practicality reared its head… or at least his fear of his mother finding out how badly he was treating a guest. It was also the kitten’s fault, and his absolutely shrieking headache, and...well, a million things. 

Grimacing, he leant forward to get up, and received a kitten to the dick as it jumped, springing off his knee to get to his shoulder -- it misjudged the jump a little, and was a scramble of sharp, tiny little claws to get to the place it intended. “OW!” Seungkwan shrieked as it clawed its way up his front to his shoulder. “Gosh diddly dang dang!”

Silence reigned from behind the door. Then, very gingerly, “Pardon me?”

Gritting his teeth, standing against the desire to curl up and die, he carefully put Bookkeu under one arm and moved at the speed of tectonic plates to open the door to the sharp-nosed man. “You might as well come in,” he said waspishly as he turned away. “Excuse me. I need some ice.”

Several minutes later - one of them getting ice, and several praying for guidance and patience - he sank down on the couch opposite the strange man, ice against the groin and way-too-puffy eyes unfriendly.

The man quailed back a bit. “Er, hello. I’m Lee Seokmin. Pleased to meet you.”

Seungkwan considered him, cudgeling his brain into working. “...you’re the guy that stays with Kwon Soonyoung,” he finally managed. 

“Yes!” Lee Seokmin said happily. “That’s me! Lee Seokmin at your service. I… um, I heard about what happened and none of  _ them _ are very good with gently breaking secrets, so I scolded them and came to see how you are. Sorry about the knocking, but I got worried when no one answered, Hansol-ah told me you were an early riser…”

Seungkwan’s right eye developed a twitch right on cue. “So you decided to break my door down?”

Lee Seokmin shook his head vigorously. “I just knocked. I promise.”

Oddly, Seungkwan felt marginally less grumpy from Lee Seokmin’s earnestness. “Oh. Um, coffee?”

“I can make If you just tell me where things are?”

Baffled, Seungkwan dragged himself back up. “No. Um.” He fought not to scratch his hair  _ or _ butt. “Um. The machine can make. I need a shower. Please don’t steal my stuff.”

“I would never!” 

If it was possible for Lee Seokmin’s eyes to look more genuine, he managed it; Seungkwan felt like a heel for implying he might, and didn’t know how to apologise, so nodded cautiously and went for a shower. When he came back, feeling marginally better, he found Lee Seokmin staring at his front door, one hand on each side of it, and chanting something softly under his breath. Each word he said ratcheted strange, gnarly lines a little tighter around the frame.

For some funny reason, the kitten was meowing with. The man meowed back every so often as well, as if they were communicating, and Seungkwan didn’t know whether to find it adorable or creepy.

Feeling a lot petty still, he waited until what looked like an intricate spot before speaking up. “Did you see the lizards? All the lizards on fire? And the puppies too? They were on fire too, what is he doing to them?”

He had his satisfaction when Lee Seokmin startled, almost banging his very straight nose against the door. 

“What,” Seungkwan asked with grim satisfaction, “are you  _ doing _ ?”

The tall man shot him a woeful look. “I’m placing wards. You never know who’s going to come calling, and isn’t it my duty to keep you safe too? Especially with what Mingyu did to yourself and Vernon.”

Seungkwan grimaced and moved to put the coffee down, taking a moment to calm himself. “Lee Seokmin-ssi,” he said as calmly as he could. “Would you sit down, please?”

Perhaps sensing something, the tall man stopped and moved to sit down, hunkered down attentively like a particularly handsome spaniel. “Of course! And please call me Seokmin? I feel like we’re going to be good friends!”

_ Okay, _ Seungkwan thought very quietly to himself,  _ remain calm. _

He took a deep breath. “I feel like you have a misconception here. All of this? The estate and the district and the magic, it’s not what I asked for. I would have been happy with a small post in primary school somewhere. That’s what I studied for, that’s what I  _ trained _ for. If it is as you said earlier, that you were thrust into this life too, surely you must understand that too. I thought things were a little strange, but I thought that was because it was a cultural, artistic district and… well… Seoul. My university years didn’t have burning lizards or strange puppies.”

“They’re salamanders,” Seokmin said quietly. “The lizards. The puppies are  _ bulgae _ .”

Seungkwan blinked, forgetting his words for a second. “What? Really? I thought those were a myth! Like… the actual celestial objects biting dogs?”

Seokmin wrinkled his nose. “Those yes, but they don’t really do that? There’s much more protection for them these days, and you have to have a permit to keep salamanders too. But Vernon-ah… well, he’s sort of a halfway house for animals. They get to stay there until they find out who they’re supposed to be with; the puppies’ mother couldn’t look after them anymore and the salamanders need a strong source of magic around. There are other beings around too; the shop sits on a Gateway, so there’s that.”

Eyes opening wide, Seungkwan tilted his head. “A Gateway?” he mumbled. “And is… um, is Chwe Hansol-ssi really such a powerful source of magic?” He reached to pick Bookkeu up on his lap, then had to help the kitten up too; the two curled together and promptly fell asleep. 

Seokmin’s eyes gentled a little. “I could explain to you later? It’s a long explanation and I’m still not sure of all of that. The fact is, pretty much all of the district is magical to some degree, and they’ve been without a protector for centuries. That’s where the Boo family comes in, I’ve been told. The government isn’t always  _ happy _ about the supernatural world, but now… well, you can see why we are happy to see you.”

“You are, Seokmin-ssi?” Seungkwan questioned. “You’re part of this now?”

Seokmin shot him a blinding smile. “I got adopted, I guess you could say. My hubby says I’ve got a knack for rituals. I…”

Seungkwan blinked. “Sorry. Your… hubby?”

Wrinkling his swordfish nose, Seokmin laughed very loudly. “Kwon Soonyoung? We’re not really married, but we might as well be, so I call him that. Besides, it pisses the Great General off like you wouldn’t  _ believe _ .”

“Er… there’s a general now mixed up in this too?”

Seokmin frowned a little. “Sure… Lee Jihoon-ssi?”

Seungkwan’s eyes bulged out. “He’s a  _ general _ ? I thought he was an undertaker! And… and… are you going to tell me Hong Jisoo-ssi isn’t a chiropractor?”

“Ah… no, he’s still a chiropractor,” Seokmin said, a ruffle of red staining the tips of his ears. “And a veterinarian, and a doctor. He just takes care of supernaturals mostly, some can have really strange complaints, like the ghost lady that had somehow gotten flu! He works a lot with Xu Minghao’s practice as well which I’ve heard you’ve met? The thin man with Soonie when you collapsed yesterday.”

“Don’t remind me.” Seungkwan flushed anew with embarrassment.

Seokmin grinned disarmingly cutely. “Sorry, when you were overwhelmed by the stress of the situation and … stuff happened. The guardian was really very angry with Hansol-ah as well, he kept yelling at him afterwards. It was very awe-inspiring.”

Seungkwan reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Say what now?”

Nodding to the kitten curled up with Bookkeu, Lee Seokmin tilted his head. “The guardian of the estate’s boundaries,” he explained. “He serves as the focal point for the wards and such around it. He, um, doesn’t normally look like this, but… well, he’s already so attached to you!”

Looking down at his lap, Seungkwan wiggled the protesting kitten up and into the air, holding him in front of his face. “You lied to me,” he muttered, squinting angrily. “All those times you came to find me, what were you trying to do, huh?”

The kitten gave a sleepy purr, waving little paws until he attacked Seungkwan’s face with his toe-beans. Again and again, little kitten pats, until Seungkwan had to jerk his face back and spit out fur from a tiny tail swishing in his direction. “I’m not the pet,” he said as quellingly as he could. “And don’t run away again! I worry, okay? Next time make sure you stay close by, or Bookkeu’s going to be sad, alright? I…” Grimacing as reality intruded, he nestled the kitten down next to Bookkeu again. “Sorry. I’m not crazy, I swear.”

Seokmin shook his head. “It’s cute,” he smiled broadly. “You lecturing a force at least two millenia old like that.”

Wrinkling his nose, Seungkwan stood and transferred the two animals to the warm spot his butt had made on the couch. “I lecture everyone, Seokmin-ssi, I’m a teacher. That’s what I  _ do _ .” He stared at his open face and sighed, guilt welling up. “And I didn’t act well yesterday, did I?” he mumbled. “Not how an adult should act. Is he… Is Hansol-ssi very angry at me?”

“No,” Seokmin murmured. “He’s a little scared, but for you; other than that he’s just feeling bad that he frightened a friend like that. Everyone understands, Seungkwan-ssi, this isn’t a small matter. It’s a very serious revelation, and it happened badly for you. Everyone would understand if you didn’t want to come back.” He stood as well. “Everyone would be sad, I think. But they’d understand. As an, um, semi-normal person myself though, I can tell you that they’re just  _ people _ , no matter the odd skills or origins. 

Seungkwan stared at him. “How can they miss me, I’ve barely known them for two weeks?”

Seokmin tilted his head. “How can they not? You’re a nice person, and perhaps they need someone like you in their lives.” He paused. “They’ll miss Bookkeu as well, you know. Jihoon-nim has already said he wants to adopt him.”

Seungkwan smiled involuntarily, reminded of just how much he’d miss the puppies and the weird, farting lizards as well. “I…” He broke off, trying to wind up his courage. “Do you want to go for an Americano, Seokmin-ssi?” he mumbled. 

Lee Seokmin beamed at him. “Call me hyung if you’re comfortable with that. And yes, I’d love to go for a coffee. I know a good cafe.”

“So do I,” Seungkwan said, and smiled just a little broader.


End file.
